Darker than Grey
by amandamendes01
Summary: Meet Anastasia Steele, 24 year old billionaire, dominant in all facets of her life... except in the bedroom. Meet Christian Grey, 27, and the richest man in the world. With his sexual predilections revealed to his family, he tries to change his ways. What will happen when the two CEO's meet? Warning: BDSM, dark themes
1. Chapter 1

**ANA**

_"Why am I punishing you, Anastasia?" His voice is menacing and full of venom. His breathing is labored as he stands behind me with a leather belt in his hand._

_"Because I came without permission, sir."_

_"And is that acceptable?"_

_"No, sir."_

_"You will get twenty lashes, Anastasia. I want you to count, but if you make any noise, you will get to more lashes. Understood?"_

_"Understood, sir."_

_The first lash comes as a surprise. The leather feels raw on my delicate skin, and it stings._

_"One," I mewl._

_"Two." The second sting hits the same spot as the first, intensifying the pain._

_"Three… Four… Five…" Each lash gets harder and harder to bear. My need to scream in pain grows with every hit._

_"Six… Seven… Eight… Nine… Ten…" He's broken skin. Tears pool in my eyes as I try my best not to start sobbing._

_I deserve this. I deserve the pain. I disobeyed him, and I must be punished._

_"Eleven… Twelve… Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen…" The lashes are getting harder. But I don't stop him. I don't safeword. I feel a pool of wetness between my thighs and immediately feel ashamed at my arousal._

_"You're such a fucking whore, getting wet from your punishment."_

_"Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen… Nineteen… Twenty." He drops the belt on the floor, and I burst into tears._

_"Thank you, sir," I mumble despite the tears._

_I lay crying on the whipping bench. He throws a tube of arnica cream near me on the floor._

_"Put this on your ass, then go home. I'm done with you."_

_He puts the belt back on it's designated hook and leaves, slamming the heavy door to his dungeon shut._

_He fucks me, punishes me, then leaves me. He says someone like me doesn't deserve his affection. And I believe him. I'm so worthless even my parents didn't want me._

* * *

I wake up in a pool of sweat. My throat is dry and hoarse. I've been screaming.

I've been having this dream for months now. It's a memory of my past… my past that's still my present.

He's still in my life, my first dom. Our sexual relationship is over. It's been over for six years now. But he provides me with guidance and advice in my business ventures. He also helps me find other doms, doms who will satisfy my need for pain.

But lately, I've been feeling empty. I run a multi-billion dollar company. I have more money than sense. But I want… need more. Something more…

* * *

"How are you, Ana?" John Flynn asks as he takes a seat on the black leather couch across from me.

Leather… Belts… Pain…

"Anastasia?" he prompts.

"Sorry, I got lost for a minute. I'm fine."

"How did the deal with Nordstrom go?"

"Good. The main label is slowly expanding runway pieces into department stores, not just trunkshows and boutiques. You'll be able to buy my haute couture at Nordstrom starting April 1," I state proudly.

I'm the owner and CEO of the world's largest fashion conglomerate. It started with my namesake brand, Anastasia Rose. I've slowly expanded the business, so now we have twenty-five different brands under our umbrella, both affordable and luxury. At twenty-one years old, I became the youngest self-made billionaire. And now, at twenty-four, I'm the fourteenth richest person in the world, and the richest woman ever.

"That's quite an achievement."

"Thank you."

"So what is it that you'd like to discuss today?"

"I've been having this dream for the past few weeks."

"About?"

"Jack." My first dom, the one who introduced me to this lifestyle.

"A good dream?"

"That's what I can't figure out."

He tilts his head in confusion and I continue, "I wake up sweating, and I know I've been screaming."

"So a nightmare then."

"No," I shake my head, "In the dream, he's doing things that I love. Things that I crave."

"What's happening in this dream?"

"He's punishing me with a leather belt. Twenty lashes. And I love it. I get off on the pain."

"If that's the case, why are you making up screaming?"

"I don't know John," I say exasperated, rubbing my temples, "Isn't that what I pay you for?"

He sighs, "What's the last thing you remember from your dream before you wake up?"

"He throws a tube of arnica cream at me and tells me to use it to soothe the pain…" I pause.

"And then?"

"And then he leaves me there. Alone on the whipping bench, aroused and silently sobbing."

"Aren't good Doms supposed to administer aftercare?"

"He was a good Dom!" I defend him. "It was part of the punishment. I came without permission. I knew the consequences. He was giving me what I deserved."

"So you deserved to be left like that?"

"Yes… No… Yes… I don't fucking know John!" I cry.

"How did it make you feel when he left you?"

"Alone… Hurt… Dirty… Used…"

"Do you think you deserved to feel those things?"

"Of course I did. I broke the rules."

"Ana, I may not be part of the BDSM scene, but Doms are supposed to care for their subs."

"He did care for me! He still cares for me."

"Physically and sexually maybe. But emotionally?"

"John, he made me who I am today. He taught me how to believe in myself."

"By beating you into submission?"

"I needed it at the time. I was so shy. I had no self-esteem. When I submitted to him, I felt like I could do anything in the world."

"Ana, I want to give you something to think about. Your so-called dream. Yes, you enjoyed the pain. But what about after. When he left you there like you were nothing to him. Maybe you were upset because you wanted more."

More… There's that word again.

"More emotional connection. Someone to hold you in his arms and soothe you."

I shudder even thinking about letting someone in that close, something deeper than a physical connection. Because once they get to know me, they'll leave. Like my parents did.

"Maybe even someone to love you."

Love? He's crazy. Definitely not. I don't deserve love. I'm not worthy. How could anyone love me? My parents didn't even love me. I don't love me.

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, "Think about it, Anastasia. Please."

* * *

"Back to the office, Miss Steele?" Sawyer asks as he opens the car door for me.

He's my CPO, kind of like a shadow. He goes wherever I go.

"Please," I reply and get into the back seat of the Mercedes GLS. I have my own fleet of these.

Sawyer gets in the driver's seat and pulls into traffic.

The car ride is silent, giving me a chance to think of John's words.

Someone to hold me… Someone to love me…

No. That will never happen. I need to be beaten. To be treated like a whore. I need a Dom, not a boyfriend, and definitely not love.

I haven't had a Dom in three months. I've been preoccupied with work, but I need to give Jack a call to set me up with a new Dom. That must be why I'm waking up screaming from that dream. I miss the burn of the belt. The harshness of the cane. The pleasure of submitting.

* * *

"Hello, Anastasia," he answers his phone.

"Hi, Jack."

"You missed our weekly lunch. I wanted to discuss a business opportunity."

"I'm sorry, I was swamped this week."

"Ah, the Nordstrom deal. How did that go?"

"Good, but that's not why I called. I need a new Dom. Soon."

"I was waiting for this call. I'll find someone by next week."

"Thank you."

"Let's have dinner. I've missed you. Friday perhaps?"

"I have to attend a charity gala."

"Which one?"

"Coping Together."

"Isn't that one of the Grey's charities? Christian Grey's parents?"

"Yes." Everyone knows about Seattle's billionaire bachelor and the richest man in the world, worth a whopping $150 billion.

"Would you like a plus one?" Since when does Jack want to go on a date?

"You know I don't attend events with anyone. And this isn't social, it's business. Carrick Grey provided me with legal advice. I owe him, and coming to his gala will drum up more donations. It's a worthy cause."

"Perhaps another time. Bye, darling."

"Bye, Jack."

Weird. I can't remember a time when Jack has been so nosy about my social calendar. Whatever. He's probably just bored. At least I'll have a new Dom soon. It's exactly what I need. I hope it will get me out of the funk I've been in.

* * *

**CHRISTIAN**

_"Elena, why are you here? This is a family dinner."_

_"Aren't I family, darling?"_

_She's been getting on my fucking nerves lately. She keeps insisting that I need a new sub, but I don't have the time for it right now. I'm in the middle of the biggest deal of my life with a Taiwanese company, and they're being difficult. A needy sub is not on the menu at the moment._

_To add to that, she's been bossing me around… Subtly giving me her opinion when I don't want it. Doesn't she get that I'm not her sub anymore? Christ! And she always wants to speak with me for my opinion on her stupid salons! Salons that mean nothing to be. They're barely a drop in my portfolio._

_"No, you're not. Incest is even too sick for people like us. You're nothing more than a business partner."_

_"Business partner?" She gets closer to me, backing me into a corner, her inner Domme coming out._

_"Yes, Elena."_

_She puts her hand on my forearm, and I immediately pull away. "You're much too tense, Christian. Please, I have the perfect girl for you. Very few hard limits and a high pain tolerance."_

_"I already told you no. And we are not talking about this in my family's home. Are you crazy?"_

_"I'm concerned about you."_

_"You shouldn't be. I'm perfectly fine," I spew, raising my voice._

_"Look at you. Your anger is getting out of hand. I taught you control, and it's slipping."_

_"You didn't teach me how to control myself, Elena. You taught me how to fuck…"_

_I hear a gasp from the doorway. It's my mother. I've never seen Grace Grey look madder. She walks over to Elena and slaps her across the face._

_"Get out of my house right now."_

_"Grace, dear," Elena tries to explain._

_I'm standing frozen in place, speechless. This can't be happening. I've done everything in my power to keep my sexual predilections from my family, and it's like my world is crashing down on me._

_"Get the hell out of my house right now, Elena," she screams._

_Elena scurries away, looking embarrassed and ashamed. I don't even want to look at my mother right now._

_"Christian?" my mother's voice calms._

_I keep my eyes downcast and try to walk away. "I'll go now." She'll probably want nothing to do with me anymore._

_"Christian," she says more forcefully._

_I look up and see the pain written all over her face._

_"When did it start?"_

_I grit my teeth and lie, "I was eighteen."_

_"Try again."_

_"Fifteen."_

_I hear her sob, and tears are streaming down her face._

_"I sent you to work at her house that summer. I did this to you."_

_"No you didn't, mom. It was my fault."_

_"Your fault? That woman raped you. My innocent baby boy."_

_"She didn't rape me. I didn't say no."_

_"Christ! You were fifteen, a child. You weren't old enough to give consent. And she… she betrayed my trust. She knew about your issues."_

_"I'm sorry, mom. You must hate me."_

_"Hate you? Why would you say that?" She wipes away her tears with her sleeves._

_"Because I disappointed you. You probably think I'm sick."_

_"This is not your fault. I should've known. Abused children end up in abusive relationships." There's a pause before she continues, "That's when you stopped drinking. Your grades got better. Your father and I didn't know what clicked in you, we were just so happy that you were getting your life together. What did she do to you?" She chokes down a sob._

_Fuck, I really don't want to get onto the topic of BDSM with my mother. I'll try to keep it mild._

_"She would punish me if I got out of control or got bad grades. She's the reason I got into Harvard." I hate to say it, but it's true._

_"Don't you dare say that. I'm going to fucking kill that woman."_

_"Mom…"_

_She wraps her arms around me and cries silently into my shoulder._

* * *

"I love the house, Christian. A welcome change from your cold and detached apartment." The apartment Elena told me to buy. The apartment that I filled with pretty things of value but no meaning.

It's such a stark contrast to this mansion on the Sound. It's warm, comforting, and it feels like home. It's meant for a family. It was an impulse buy really, but I'm glad I bought it. Maybe in the future, my family will live here with me. A wife... Maybe even a couple of kids. I shake the thought from my mind. Me and a family? With kids? Never going to happen.

"Thanks, mom. Why don't we do Sunday family dinner here?"

Family dinner. That's a new word coming from my mouth. Before, I was disconnected from my family. I barely attended family functions, too afraid to show my face, the real me. It took months and months of therapy, alone and with my family, to get me to finally realize that what Elena did to me was wrong. She raped me. She abused me.

I've given up heavy BDSM. I realized that it was her means of still controlling me. It was her way of making sure I was still under her watchful thumb. Picking girls for me and getting me to invest in her salons.

I've wiped my hands clean of her, broken all ties. The salons were gifted and restraining orders were granted. It also seemed she was embezzling money from me, small amounts every month so that no one would notice.

When Carrick said she could be indicted, she threatened to expose me. The BDSM. So in exchange for her silence, she wouldn't be put behind bars. I barely think about her anymore. She's a part of my past that I hope to completely forget one day.

Escala has been completely refurbished. The playroom – dismantled. I know in my heart that I could never give up BDSM. It's become a part of me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the kinkier aspects of the lifestyle. But as far as contracted submissives, I'm done with it.

"That sounds like a great idea," she replies, "We'll all be here. Oh, and don't forget. The charity gala on Friday. You're coming, right?"

"Of course, I am."

* * *

**ANA**

"I want the report done by today, or you're fucking fired!" I scream, then hang up the phone.

Fucking idiots, messing up a simple business report a college student could do!

"Miss Steele," Jose's voice rings through the intercom, "You told me to remind you about the charity event tonight. You'll need to leave now to have enough time to get ready."

I'm so stressed out right now. I rub my temples to soothe the headache.

"Thank you, Jose. I'll be out in a few minutes. I just need to gather my things."

"I'll inform Sawyer, ma'am."

"Oh, and please schedule a casual lunch with Mr. Hyde this weekend."

"Of course, Ms. Steele." There's a hint of annoyance in his voice.

* * *

A silver satin gown and ostentatious diamond jewelry – my outfit for tonight.

Sawyer leads me through the gaggles of reporters to the red carpet, where I'm obliged to take photos.

Once I'm inside the event, Sawyer leaves me alone, disappearing somewhere in the crowd.

I'm immediately approached by both men and women who think they can offer business ideas to me. I brush them off. I don't mix business and pleasure.

"Anastasia," a voice I recognize calls my name.

"Mr. Grey. It's so lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting me by the way."

"Carrick, please," he says shaking my hand. "Let me introduce you to my wife."

"Grace, dear," he calls to a beautifully put together woman.

"This is my lovely wife, Grace. Gracie, this is Anastasia Steele."

Instead of a handshake, she pulls me into a warm hug.

"Oh, you're even more beautiful in person."

"Thank you, Mrs. Grey. This is such a special event you're putting on."

"It's an issue very close to our hearts. It's terrible what can happen to children when their parents become addicted." She gives a knowing look to her husband, and instinctively, I can tell that this issue is personal. Maybe even too close to home.

"I love your dress," I compliment her, making the topic of conversation more light-hearted.

"It's one of your designs."

I didn't even notice. The business has gotten so big, I haven't designed anything in a long time. I have designers and creative directors for that now. I'm solely in charge of the business side of things now.

"Well, it looks stunning on you."

Carrick excuses himself to talk to more guests, while a young girl comes to join us.

"Anastasia, this is my daughter, Mia. I hope you don't mind, but she's been dying to meet you. She wants to get into the fashion industry."

Mia is absolutely adorable, and I can already tell that she has an amazing fashion sense.

"Please, call me Ana."

* * *

**CHRISTIAN**

"You made it!" my mother gasps.

"I told you I would come. Don't act so surprised."

"Well, I'm so used to you taking last-minute rainchecks. Forgive me for being excited."

"I'm sorry, mother."

"Enough of that. Do you know Anastasia Steele? Your father invited her."

"I know of her." I've never met her, but of course, I've heard of her. She stole the title of Seattle's youngest billionaire away from me. She's the richest woman in the world and is at the very top of the fashion industry.

"Maybe you should go introduce yourself. She's talking to Mia right now."

My mom points to the corner of the ballroom, where I see the two girls conversing.

"She's very pretty," my mom comments.

"Are you trying to set me up?" I break a smile.

"I would never," she acts surprised, feigning innocence, "Just go talk to her."

From my view across the room, I can tell she's gorgeous. She's a natural beauty, wearing little to no makeup in a room full of women who are obsessed with plastic surgery and caking on makeup.

She fits the looks of my perfect submissive to a tee – alabaster skin, slender figure, dark brown hair, and powder blue eyes. But she's certainly no submissive.

I confidently walk across the room to greet her. "Miss Steele," I say cooly, interrupting my baby sister.

"Mr. Grey," she stands up to greet me.

That voice brings me back. It can't be her, can it?

There's a feeling in my gut that I can't shake. I would recognize the tenor of her voice anywhere. It's her.


	2. Chapter 2

**ANA**

"_You've been such a good little girl," he says stroking my hair, "I have a surprise for you tomorrow night."_

"_What is it, sir?"_

"_If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"_

"_No, sir."_

"_Trust me. It will be very stimulating," he whispers into my ear. "Be here by 5. Make sure you're cleanly shaven. Everywhere. I want you to wear your white lingerie under a tight mini dress and high heels."_

"_A tight dress, sir?" I'm not completely comfortable with my body yet, and I don't like wearing fitted clothing._

_He smacks my ass. Hard. "Don't question me. You're very lovely, Anastasia. Sexy. I don't want to hear another word of that."_

"_Thank you, sir. I'm sorry for questioning you, sir."_

"_You're forgiven. Now, clean up your toys before you leave."_

_He leaves me alone in his dungeon where I tidy up. I place the handcuffs and whips back in their proper place and sanitize the nipple clamps and vibrators. I want to please him._

_Sir hasn't fucked me yet. He's seemed to have done everything to my body except that. I've been whipped, chained, flogged, suspended, beaten, but not fucked. I'm aching for him, but sir knows what I need best. I should know better than to question his methods._

_Perhaps that's his surprise for me. I leave his dungeon with a smile on my face and a skip in my step._

* * *

_I follow Jack's instructions to a tee and show up at 5 o'clock sharp in a slutty dress and heels I can barely walk in._

"_Get in the car, slut," he says when I arrive._

"_Where are we going, sir?" I ask._

"_Surprise," he reminds me, "Now no more questions, and keep your eyes downcast."_

"_Yes, sir."_

* * *

_The car comes to a stop in the driveway of an unfamiliar house._

"_Sir?"_

"_No questions. Get out."_

_He leads me along the winding cobblestone path to a large metal door. My heart beats in my chest, fear setting in._

"_You'll do anything I tell you tonight, slut."_

"_Yes, sir."_

_He opens the door, revealing a dungeon just like he has at his house. Whips, canes, handcuffs are hung on the walls and various BDSM furniture is splayed across the room. There's a grid on the wall designed for suspension, a St. Andrews Cross, a whipping bench, and things I have never seen before that look like torture devices._

_I instantly feel uncomfortable. I want to ask why we're here, but I don't want to suffer the consequences._

_He leads me to the corner of the room and unzips my dress. He tells me to get into the submissive position, and I comply, kneeling with my hands lying flat on my thighs, eyes downcast._

"_Good girl." He plays with my hair and continues, "Who do you belong to?"_

"_You, sir."  
_

_I see his feet move in circles around me. "I'm going to share you with a friend tonight, Anastasia."_

_My heart stops._

"_Share, sir?"_

"_I thought you'd like to feel what it's like to have a hard, thick cock inside of your dirty cunt."_

"_I want yours, sir."_

_He chuckles sadistically, "Little whores don't get to demand things. They take what's given to them. And I'm giving you to my friend tonight. You're to listen to his every command just as you do with me."_

"_Of course, sir." I'm extremely nervous and can feel the anxiety start to set in. A stranger is about to take my virginity. "Are you going to stay with me, sir?"  
_

"_No, Anastasia. Once he's done with you, he's going to bring you back to me. But be warned, this man is sex mad. He can fuck for hours, and I want you to show him how well I've trained you. Now hush. Not another word unless your new master asks you a question."_

_I nod my head to let him know I understand._

"_Such a good girl. I think this might be more fun if I blindfold you."_

_He wraps a satin blindfold around my eyes, completely blocking my vision._

"_Goodbye, Anastasia. I trust you'll have a stimulating night."_

_I hear the sound of his footsteps waning, and the slam of the door signals that I've been left alone._

_That's when I realize my panties are drenched. I'm turned on by the prospect of being fucked and used by a stranger. Someone I don't know is about to take my virginity. It sounds sick and masochistic, but the thought makes me excited._

_A few minutes later, I hear the opening of the door and soft footsteps approaching me._

_The mystery man caresses my face, and his deep sultry voice catches my attention, "You are so beautiful."_

_I open my mouth to thank him but then remember my place. Do not speak unless asked a direct question._

_He runs his fingers along my clavicle and says, "My name's Chris. What's yours."_

"_Rose," I answer, not wanting to reveal my real name._

"_You are so lovely, Rose. Never forget that."_

* * *

"Miss Steele," he greets me, bringing back the memories of my first time.

It was wonderful, the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. He was dominating and tender at the same time. I used to have dreams about him, wishing he would take me just one more time. But I kept submitting to Jack. I knew I didn't deserve a man as sexy and giving as him. I deserved someone like Jack. Someone brutal and harsh to show me the way in life.

But this can't be him. Can it? Imagine, Christian Grey, out of all the people in the world. It can't be him! No, no, no, I refuse to believe it.

As much as I want to deny it, the voice is undeniably his. The way he says my names brings me back to the memories of my first lover chanting "Rose," like it was the gospel.

"Mr. Grey," I reply, shaking his hand.

Even though I never got to see this beautiful man's face those nine long years ago, I feel emotionally connected to him in an indescribable way.

Mia politely excuses herself, leaving Christian and me alone.

"What brings you here tonight, Ms. Steele?" he asks.

"Please call me Ana. And your father invited me. He gave some legal advice a few weeks ago, and I owed him. Plus, this is a wonderful charity. Such an important cause, Mr. Grey."

"It is," he agrees, "But please, it's Christian."

"You know I've heard horror stories of former employees calling you by your first name."

He lets out a small chuckle, "All rumors. You know how it is."

I nod affirmatively.

"So where's your date?" he asks casually.

"No date," I reply, "But you knew that, didn't you?" I've never been seen or photographed with a man my age that wasn't a business associate. People have speculated about my sexual orientation and have even gone as far as to say I'm the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary.

"Just asking," he smiles, "A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn't be left alone." Such a dominant thing to say…

"Well, I'm a big girl, Christian. I can take care of myself."

"You shouldn't have to."

Suddenly this conversation is getting much too personal for me. I've just met him. But he took my virginity. At least, I'm pretty sure.

He senses the shift in my demeanor and changes the topic, "Will you be participating in the first dance auction. I'd love to get to know you better."

"That sounds… very barbaric."

"Trust me, it's all for a good cause."

He gently lifts my arm and places a gentle kiss on the back of my hand, leaving me stunned.

When Christian leaves, Mia comes back running.

"That was my older brother. I'm sorry if he was rude to you. He's very grumpy sometimes."

"He was nothing but a gentleman."

"Oh, well in that case, do you want to be part of the first dance auction? We wear masks, so it's all anonymous."

* * *

"Gentleman, this lovely lady goes by the name Jasmine. She speaks five languages, is an avid skier, and loves long walks on the beach. Do I hear five thousand?"

"Five thousand," someone shouts.

"Five thousand going once…"

"Six thousand," another man shouts.

"Six thousand for the lovely Jasmine. Going once, going twice, sold!"

"Well, gentleman… Up next, we have the beautiful Rose."

I walk onto the stage, concealed by an intricate silver face mask that perfectly matches my evening attire.

I see Christian in the audience, looking smug. He winks at me, and can't help but smile.

"In addition to being breathtakingly beautiful, Rose used to play competitive tennis, has a black belt in karate, and loves to travel the world." At least one of those things is true. "The bidding starts at five thousand!"

"Ten thousand," Christian shouts immediately.

"Fifteen thousand," someone else bids. I look closer and see it's Flynn. Then I see Christian staring daggers at him, and Flynn laughs without a care. Do they know each other?

"Twenty thousand," Christian states.

"Thirty thousand," Flynn raises. It looks like he's taunting Christian. What the hell is going on here?

"Fifty thousand," Christian says forcefully.

"We've got high rollers in the house tonight!"

"A hundred grand," Flynn chuckles.

"A million dollars," Christian says finally. Everyone in the room including me gasps, utterly stunned.

Flynn puts his hands up in defeat, backing away.

"A million dollars, fellas. Going once, going twice, sold to Mr. Christian Grey."

I walk off the stage, incredulous to what just transpired.

He takes my hand, helping me down the stairs, and removes my mask.

"Rose," he whispers.

"Chris…"


	3. Chapter 3

**ANA**

"Rose," he whispers.

"Chris…" I stutter, suddenly realizing the weight of this moment. My nerves and insecurities start to get the best of me. Gone is the confident and powerful CEO, and in its place is that shy sixteen-year-old girl with low self-esteem and abandonment issues. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey. I… I… I have to go."

I tug my arm away from his, but he grabs me before I can make my mad dash.

"Wait, don't go. You owe me a dance."

"I'm sorry, sir. But this is highly inappropriate."

He shudders, "Please, it's just Christian."

"Christian, I… I really can't."

"It was a very expensive dance, Anastasia. A million dollars if I recall correctly."

"Christian," I protest yet again.

"Please," he begs again in a whisper, desperation filling his eyes, "I want to talk."

The first dance auction is still going on in the background noise. One girl goes for seven thousand and another goes for five.

"Don't make me pay another million bucks for one dance," he lightens up, cracking a smile.

I relent. "Okay."

By now the auction has ended and the announcer is calling all the winners to the dance floor for the first dance of the evening.

Christian takes my hand and leads my hand and leads me to the center of the ballroom. All the other couples have congregated around us, and the band begins to play "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley.

"I'm not much of a dancer," I admit.

"I think I can rectify the situation."

He takes the lead into what I assume is a common slow dance. A waltz maybe? He definitely had fancy dance lessons when he was younger because he expertly glides me around the dance floor.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember."

I stare at him, gaping, unsure of how to respond.

"I don't know how I didn't put it together sooner. Your face is plastered across every magazine and newspaper."

"Christian…"

"You captivated me that night."

"We really shouldn't be talking about that right now. It's inappropriate."

"We're just talking."

"This isn't the time or place for that type of discussion."

"Then how about dinner?" he proposes.

I need to find an excuse. Any way to get out of this mess.

"I'm busy. Work, you know. A billion dollar company doesn't run itself."

"I know the sentiment all too well. But I'm sure you can delegate for one night. Only for a few hours. Dinner at my place. Friday. 7 pm."

And there's his dominance coming out. I hesitate.

"Don't make me beg."

"We really shouldn't."

"Don't tell me you didn't feel a connection that night."

"That was nine years ago."

"And what about tonight? I know you feel it too. You can't deny it."

"Be that as it may, I can't."

"Why not?"

"It would be highly inappropriate."

"Why would it be inappropriate for two, young, successful entrepreneurs to have dinner together."

"Because…" I look around to see if anyone is listening in to our conversation and whisper, "You're a dominant."

"Not anymore," he rebukes quickly, catching me by surprise.

A man like him… A successful CEO certainly is a control-freak. Whether it be in his business, his personal life, and his sex life, a man like that asserts his dominance in every way possible. I assumed he was still in the lifestyle.

"Look," he continues, "I know you probably have so many questions."

"That would be an understatement."

"I have some for you as well. But all I know is that I want to get to know you better. I will get on my knees if I have to."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"Fine."

"Fine, what?"

"Fine, I'll have dinner with you."

"Good."

We continue to dance until the last note of the song plays.

"Thank you for the dance, Anastasia," he says, placing a kiss on the back of my hand.

"A very expensive one," I point out.

"It was worth every penny."

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," I apologize to Jack, as I take my seat at the table. There is already a garden salad waiting for me.

"Don't worry. You must've had a late night. I ordered for you."

"Thanks, Jack."

I dig into my salad, and he takes a bite out of his burger.

"I have the perfect Dom for you. He's an Amazon executive. You won't have to worry about privacy or him leaking anything to the press. He's in his late thirties and wants to meet for an audition on Friday night."

Good, a new Dom is exactly what I need to get my mind off Chrisitan Grey. Christian… food… lunch… dinner… Friday… Dinner with Chrisitan on Friday.

"I can't on Friday. I have a meeting. Can you schedule another time?"

"I'll ask him and get back to you."

There's a pause in the conversation until I speak up, "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

Cautiously, I bring the subject up. "The night I lost my virginity."

"I remember it well, darling."

"The man you gave me to. Did you know him?"

"Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Call me curious."

He sighs before giving me his long-winded answer, "I have an associate. She's very involved in the lifestyle and is a sort of middle man for contracted submissives and dominants looking for the perfect match. At the time, she had been training a dominant. She said he was the best she's ever seen. So we organized the two of you to have a session. You were new to the lifestyle and he was a dominant with limited experience. I had trained you well and he had been trained well, but both of you had never actually experienced a scene involving sex in your respective roles. It was a match made in heaven with you two. But to answer your question… No. I didn't know him personally. But I understand he's become quite successful."

"Why didn't you tell me Christian Grey took my virginity," I whisper aggressively.

"How did you figure it out?"

"We met at his parent's charity event last night. When we got to talking, we both realized our shared past. He asked me to have dinner with him next week. And I agreed."

"Anastasia, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Nothing good will come of you branching out on your own and finding a new dominant."

"You should be glad then. Because I have no interest in being his submissive. It's simply a business dinner."

"If you say so."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHRISTIAN**

"_You are so lovely, Rose. Never forget that."_

_I run my hands through her chestnut brown hair._

"_You're shaking. What's the matter?"_

"_Just a little nervous, sir. I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be sorry, Rose. I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. Do you know your safewords?"_

"_Yes, sir. Yellow to slow down and red to stop."_

"_Good girl," I praise, petting her hair._

_I walk in circles around her, inspecting her body… Creamy skin, long legs, and a tantalizing aroma._

"_Stand up," I command._

_She complies, exposing her whole body to me. I caress one of her breasts, and she shudders._

"_Stay still."_

_She composes herself, and I move my attention to her panties._

"_Look at you, Rose. Already drenching wet," I comment as I run my fingers along the crotch of her panties._

_I push her panties to the side and dip my fingers into her pussy for the first time._

_I then bring my fingers to her mouth and say, "Taste yourself for me, Rose."_

_And like a good submissive, she opens her mouth, welcoming my fingers._

_Her lips greedily clamp down on my fingers, and she licks them clean._

_Imagine those lips wrapped around my cock._

"_How do you taste?"_

"_Good, sir. Sweet."_

"_Can I taste you, Rose?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_I want you to feed me."_

_She shakily brings her hand to her pussy and I remind her, "Confidence, Rose."_

_With a bit more conviction, she dips her fingers into her wetness and brings them to my mouth. I gladly suck on her fingers._

"_You're right. Absolutely delicious."_

_She bites her lip, and I feel my dick strain against my jeans._

* * *

Fucking hell! That fucking dream of that night with Anastasia has been plaguing my nights ever since I laid eyes on her at Coping Together.

An early morning session with Flynn is exactly what I need. I text Ros to let her know I'll be late to the office this morning.

* * *

"Christian," Flynn greets, "I knew I'd get a visit from you sooner or later."

Leave it to Flynn to predict my every move.

"Well, you predicted right."

I sit in the familiar leather couch across from him, and he gives me a stare down.

"What?" I question.

"You're smiling," he comments.

Am I? There's usually a permanent scowl on my face.

I quickly turn my smile into a frown, causing Flynn to chuckle.

"I hear you're a million dollars poorer."

"It would have been less if someone wasn't upping the bid."

"Oh, well I forgot about that," he says sarcastically. "How do you know Anastasia Steele, anyway?" he asks.

"I hadn't met her until last night. Or so I thought."

His curiosity is piqued. "Please explain."

"She… she was the first girl that subbed for me… Well… the first girl after Elena."

"Wow… Christian…" I don't think I've ever seen Flynn speechless. "And you only came to that realization last night? Surely you would have noticed it was her before."

"Elena set it up. She was blindfolded. I never saw her face. But when I heard her voice, I knew. She knew too. There was this undeniable connection between us. Something… something intangible. It brought back all the good memories of that night. She… She completely captivated me. I compared all my submissives to her… to that night. But in my head, I was trying to rationalize my feelings. I thought that because she was my first, I was remembering it more fondly. But when I saw her, it's like something in me clicked. God, Flynn! What the hell is wrong with me?"

He smirks and says, "I think you're suffering from a serious affliction."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, "I think you're in love with her."

"What? In love? Flynn, please. You know I don't have a heart. I can't possibly be in love with her. I… I don't know how to do love."

"Of course you have a heart, Christian. You wouldn't be breathing right now without one."

"You know that's not what I meant, Flynn. I don't know how to love a woman. All I know is how to tie them up and whip them. Does that sound like love to you?"

"Love manifests itself in all different forms."

"Don't dodge the question."

"You said she subbed for you. Something tells me she's quite aware of your proclivities and even shares them."

"I don't even know if she's still in the lifestyle anymore, Flynn. Hell, I gave up the lifestyle."

"You gave up the contracted submissives. But we've talked about this before. You enjoy BDSM. A lot of loving, healthy couples practice the lifestyle together. And as for Anastasia's involvement in the lifestyle… That sounds like something you should ask her."

"I know. That's why I asked her to have dinner at my place. Friday night."

"Well, that's a development. And she agreed?"

"Not at first. I practically had to beg her."

He laughs, "Wow, Christian Grey begging? That's a new look for you."

"That's exactly my point, John! She drives me crazy. I've never begged a woman like that. Ever."

"I didn't think I'd ever see the day Christian Grey asked someone out on a date. And he had to beg no less."

"A date?" I pull my hair vigorously. My voice is frantic. "Is that was this is? Shit, shit, shit. A date? Me? On a date?"

"Are you okay there, Christian?" Flynn asks but doesn't really sound too concerned.

"A fucking date? Girls have expectations for these things. Don't they? What am I supposed to do? I mean, I could fly in Gordon Ramsay to make us dinner. I could crack open that $300,000 bottle of champagne I've been saving. I could have the house covered in flowers. Girls like that shit right? It's romantic?"

Flynn laughs yet again at my expense. "That might be overkill. I don't think you can win her over by flaunting your wealth. From what I hear, she's doing just fine for herself."

"Fuck," I mutter, "You're right. Perhaps a bouquet of flowers then. I can have Gail make us an impeccable dinner. And a standard bottle of Dom will do. And I can pick her up in the new Ferrari. Classy but still exciting."

"That sounds more like it," he smiles.

"Wow, am I really paying you $500 an hour for dating advice?" I chuckle.

"It looks like it," he smirks.

"Hearts and flowers…" I mumble, "It isn't something I've ever done before. I've never wanted to before."

"Perhaps you were just waiting for the right girl."

* * *

I leave Flynn's office feeling like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Hearts and flowers and Anastasia. I'll show Flynn.

"Taylor," I instruct getting in the car, "I want two dozen long-stemmed, red roses delivered to Miss Anastasia Steele at her office immediately."

"Yes, sir." And momentarily, I think I see Taylor smile.

* * *

**ANA**

I can't concentrate on work today. My thoughts keep shifting to Christian Grey. To the night he took my virginity. To Friday night at the gala. I felt something with him that night. He was so tender but dominant at the same time. Just perfect. I thought… I thought maybe my mind was playing tricks with me. Maybe I only had this fantastical version of my first time in my head. Was it really that mind-blowing? Was it really that amazing?

And then we met again. I felt the butterflies and the nerves. It was like that night was coming back to me. The memories and the emotions he evoked in me were all there.

Stop! I can't think about him like that. I'm a submissive. And according to him, he's not a dominant anymore. I'll have dinner with him on Friday because I gave him my word but after that… I'm breaking contact. If Jack has taught me anything over the years, it's to never let people in. And forming romantic feelings for your dominant is the ultimate sin. I can't. I can't let him see how weak I really am. I won't allow it.

I will willingly submit my body, but I will never submit my heart.

A knock on my door breaks me out of my thoughts.

"Yes?" I call out.

"Miss Steele," Jose answers, "I have a delivery for you."

"You can come in Jose."

He opens the door carrying a large vase of beautiful red roses. Who the hell would send those to me?

"Who are those from?" I ask.

"Mr. Christian Grey, ma'am. Where would you like them?"

"Over there is fine," I say pointing to the coffee table adjacent to my desk.

Why is Christian sending me flowers? I'm trying to get him out of my mind not in it.

Jose carefully places the crystal vase at the center of the table then promptly leaves.

There's a small white card tucked into the bouquet, so I get out of my seat to read it.

* * *

_Anastasia,_

_I'm looking forward to our date on Friday._

_In the meantime, please enjoy these flowers._

_Christian Grey xx_

* * *

This man is absolutely nuts! Flowers! And our date? He said nothing of a date. We're just two old acquaintances having dinner. Nothing more.

I suddenly have the urge to send him an irate message, when I see an unknown phone number in my messages. It's him, and he sounds as smug as ever.

**Christian:** Did you get the flowers?

**Ana:** I did. But they're completely unnecessary.

**Christian:** Do you not like them? I can have another arrangement sent over if roses aren't your cup of tea.

**Ana:** No, they're lovely. But you can't be sending me flowers.

**Christian:** Why not?

**Ana:** Because you can't be. And how'd you get my number, anyway?

**Christian:** My father. And I think it's completely appropriate to send you flowers.

I sigh. This man is infuriating!

**Christian:** Also, would it be okay to pick you up on Friday? I don't want you to get lost. It's quite tricky to find your way around if you don't know the neighborhood.

**Ana:** Trying to trap me in your dungeon?

I regret the words once they're sent. I fully expect a passive-aggressive reply from Christian, but I can't help but laugh when he says something witty.

**Christian:** That's the idea.

**Ana:** In that case, you may pick me up. I'll have my assistant send you the address. But just so you know, it's not a date.

**Christian:** Right, not a date…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I know, I know. I haven't updated in a while. Sorry guys! I really hope I can get back to updating regularly now, but we'll see. Also, the next chapter of Young in Love should be up either tomorrow or by the weekend, so don't forget to check it out! Enjoy!

* * *

**ANA**

_Tuesday_

I walk into my office in the morning and see another bouquet of flowers, this time a bouquet of pink tulips. There's also a box of macarons from Laudree. I open the lid to see a dozen perfectly placed raspberry macarons. My favorite. How did he know?

There's a note taped to the vase.

* * *

_Anastasia,_

_I hope you like the macarons. They arrived from Paris this morning. And for future reference, what's your favorite flower?_

_Christian_

* * *

I can't believe this man had macarons sent from Paris just for me. Who does that? Oh, I know! Billionaires who like wasting money! I'm going to devour all the macarons today, but that was completely unnecessary. And so were the flowers?

I decide to send him an angry text.

**Ana:** What did I say about sending me flowers?

**Christian:** I sent you macarons _and _flowers. You never said anything about that.

**Ana:** Don't be cheeky with me. And how'd you know my favorite flavor? Did you have your spies figure it out?

**Christian:** Lucky guess. But raspberry happens to be my favorite flavor, too. And if I recall, I asked you what your favorite flowers were.

Ugh, why is this man so charming but so infuriating at the same time?!

**Ana:** Camellias.

**Christian:** Ah, of course. The signature flower of Chanel.

I find myself giggling like a schoolgirl at his text.

**Ana:** It concerns me that you know that.

**Christian:** That's what I get for having a little sister. I happen to know a lot about fashion. I could give you some advice if you need it.

**Ana:** I think I'm doing just fine. But unlike you, I have work to do. Stop bothering me.

**Christian:** You got it, Miss Steele. I'll see you on our date.

**Ana:** Not a date.

**Christian:** ;)

* * *

_Wednesday_

This morning, a stunning bouquet of crisp white Camellias in a gold vase is on my desk. And this time, there's a box of chocolates wrapped in a white satin bow with my name on it.

The card is placed under the vase, so I pick it up. And holy shit is that vase heavy! Is that real gold! Fucking hell, it is. The man sent me expensive flowers in a solid gold vase. I want to call him to tell him off, but something stops me. I can't help but smile.

**Ana:** A solid gold vase. Gaudy, don't you think?

**Christian: **I would call it regal.

**Ana:** Where in the world did you get that anyway?

**Christian:** I can't give you all my secrets.

* * *

_Thursday_

Walking into my office this morning, I fully expect another ostentatious gift from Christian. And he doesn't disappoint. A stunning bouquet of orange marigolds sits on my desk in a much more modest vase this time. Next to the flowers is a large Hermes box. Yet again, another expensive gift. I want to call Jose into here to send it back immediately, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

I carefully untie the immaculate brown ribbon tied around the box and lift off the lid. At first look, it's just another classic Birkin bag. But with closer inspection, I notice the Himalayan leather and the diamond-encrusted hardware. I put the bag down, utterly stunned. That bag would cost around $1 million, and although I have the money now, I would never buy something like that for myself. I came from nothing, and spending outrageous amounts of money on a purse never appealed to me. Although, I would be lying if I said I didn't love the bag. But I have to give it back to him.

**Ana:** Are you crazy?

**Christian:** What do you mean?

**Ana:** The handbag.

**Christian:** Oh, that? That's what you're so worked up about?

**Ana:** I'm sending it back to you. I can't accept it.

**Christian: **Why not?

**Ana:** I know how much that cost. You're insane.

**Christian:** I'm not taking it back. Keep it. It's not like I can return it anyway. And what am I going to do with a purse?

**Ana:** Give it to your sister. Or your mother.

**Christian:** I already got one for them.

**Ana:** You're impossible.

**Christian:** Looking forward to our date tomorrow. ;)

**Ana:** For the last time, it's not a date!

God dammit! This man is so infuriating, high-handed, and controlling as hell! But fucking hell, I can't get him out of my mind. I don't like him. I can't. I need an emergency session with Flynn.

* * *

"It's nice to see you again, Anastasia," Flynn greets.

"I saw you last week at the gala."

"Ah, yes, of course."

"Do you know Christian Grey?" I ask, remembering Flynn driving up the bidding for my first dance.

"We're associates," Flynn answers cryptically.

"So he's a patient as well?"

"You know I can't give you that information."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You can ask him yourself, Anastasia."

"Fine, I'll drop it," I sigh, "Anyways, I brought it up because that man is irritating me. And I can't get him out of my mind."

Flynn chuckles, but I ignore him.

"I agreed to have dinner with him on Friday. He thinks it's a date."

"Is it not?" Flynn questions.

"Of course not."

"What are you doing on this non-date?"

"He's picking me up from work. We're having dinner at his place, so we can talk and avoid the paparazzi."

"Talk about what? Did you just meet Christian at the gala?" He asks this like he already knows the answer.

"Actually, a revelation into my past has been made. Christian was well… he was my first."

"The night Jack gave you away…" he trails off.

"Yes."

"You've always remembered that night fondly."

"I have. It was such a stark contrast to Jack's rather rough behavior. I mean don't get me wrong, he dominated me and I got off on the pain. But there was just something more…"

"More, you say?"

I tug at my perfectly coiffed hair. "Yes more! Jesus, Flynn! What do you want me to tell you? That it was the best sexual experience of my life?! Because it was!"

"Then why are you so adamant that Friday night isn't a date?"

"Because I'm fucked up, Flynn! And I don't date, you know this."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"No… Yes… Fuck! I don't know!" I scream.

"We were talking about this in our last session, Anastasia. Maybe you need more than just a dominant."

"I need to be controlled in the bedroom, Flynn. I need the pain."

"You know that committed couples are in the lifestyle. I don't see why being in a relationship deters from your need for pain."

"I can't be in a relationship. I don't know how to be in one. People like me aren't cut out for that lovey dovey crap."

"People like you?"

"You know what I mean! I'm so fucked up. How can someone love me? My parents didn't!"

"Your parents were sick, Ana. But that doesn't mean they didn't love you."

I ignore him. I know my parents didn't love me. What parent abandons their child at five years old?!

I change the subject, "Christian said he wasn't a dominant anymore, so I don't see why we're discussing this."

Flynn sighs, "Why don't you talk to me after your date. Maybe then we can sort out some of your feelings."

"It's not a date!"

* * *

Is Flynn right? Do I want more?

I shake those thoughts out of my mind. Jack always told me love was for fools. He's right. Love makes you weak.

* * *

_Friday_

Like clockwork, there's another bouquet of flowers waiting for me on my desk. This time, it's a lovely arrangement of pink peonies. I'm relieved when there's no ostentatious gift sitting next to it. There is a card though.

* * *

_Anastasia,_

_I can't get you out of my mind. And yes, I sent you flowers again. Hearts and flowers… That's what you deserve._

_I'll see you at seven._

_Christian_


	6. Chapter 6

**ANA**

It's 5 pm, the end of the workday. Everyone is going home to their friends, family, and social life. If it were any other day, I'd bury myself in my work until the early hours of the next morning, only going home after Sawyer forced me. I would crawl like a zombie up to my bedroom, and after a restless few hours of sleep, I would promptly arrive at my Dominant's house to submit myself the whole weekend.

But today's different. For one, I won't be alone in the office all night. I'll be more like a normal person on a Friday night. Well, as normal as I can be. I'll be with… a friend, I guess. An irritating, overbearing, high-handed, smug, arrogant… Friend.

* * *

**CHRISTIAN**

"Everything's all set for the helicopter, sir," Taylor informs me.

"And the chef?" I ask, anxiety clear in my voice.

"Yes, Gordon Ramsay is already whipping up magic in your kitchen." Fuck whatever Flynn said about going overkill on this date. I don't give a flying fuck. Anastasia deserves the best, and that's what she's going to get.

"Good."

Taylor takes that as his cue to leave my office, but I stop him.

"Wait, Taylor. How… How do I look?" When have I ever been this nervous about impressing a woman?

He grins, "You look great, Mr. Grey."

"Are you sure? What about my tie? Does it go with my suit?" I ramble.

"I'm sure Miss Steele will be impressed." This time, he gives me a funny look.

I raise my eyebrow. "What is it, Taylor?"

"Nothing, Mr. Grey. It's just nice seeing you like this."

What? It's nice seeing me all anxious and nervous over a woman? I mean, she's not just any woman. She's absolutely gorgeous, beautiful, stunning, sexy… Fucking hell!

"That will be all, Taylor!" I shout.

He laughs as he closes the door to my office.

I check the time. 5 pm. That means it's almost time to pick up Anastasia. I can't fucking wait.

* * *

**ANA**

Christian promptly arrives at 7 pm on the dot, and I go downstairs to meet him.

I can't help but notice how handsome he looks in his tailored suit and silver tie.

"Good evening, Miss Steele," he greets me, "You look stunning."

I feel my cheeks start to redden. I changed out of my work clothes into something more suitable for the occasion: a floral embroidered, knee-length Carolina Herrera dress and navy blue Louboutin pumps.

"Thank you. And thank you for the flowers today. They were well received without an outrageous gift."

He smirks, "I saved you the outrageous gift for tonight."

I roll my eyes as he leads us outside to where a blue Buggati Chiron is parked right out front. It just screams I'm richer than you, fuck off. A car like that goes for around $4 million. I'm not surprised Christian owns one. And I wouldn't be surprised if he had a whole garage dedicated to expensive cars. All uber-wealthy men do.

"Nice car," I comment.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Like a gentleman, he opens the passenger door for me. Before I get in I ask, "We're having dinner at your place?"

"Yes," he answers, "Unless you'd like to go somewhere else." I can see the panic in his eyes when he says that.

"No, no. Your place is fine. But if you could provide my CPO with your address, that would be great."

"Why would your CPO need the address?"

"He'll be following us there," I say like the intent was totally obvious.

"You won't be needing him. I have my CPO. His name's Taylor. He's very trustworthy." He points to the burly man in the stalled Audi behind us.

"I would feel more comfortable if my CPO, Sawyer, followed us. We can't risk you trying to kidnap me," I attempt to joke.

He doesn't laugh. "Why don't you have Sawyer ride with Taylor? Would that be acceptable?"

"Fine."

I tell Sawyer to go with Taylor, then I get in the car.

"How was your day?" he asks as he turns on the engine.

"Long," I state honestly. "How was yours?"

"Much of the same. I was restless all day. I couldn't wait for our date."

"This is not a date." I can't even convince myself of my words when Christian chuckles.

"You keep saying that. But I think we both know that's a lie."

"I don't date."

"Well, neither do I," he retorts, "So, this should be fun for the both of us."

He slows down when we approach the GEH building and pulls into the underground parking garage.

"I thought we were going to your place."

"We are."

"This is your office."

"How do you know where I work? Stalker much?"

"Your name is plastered on the side of the building," I laugh.

"Ah, forgot about that," he smiles.

"Seriously, though. What are we doing here?" I ask.

"It's a surprise."

We get out of the car and onto the elevator. Christian presses the button for the roof, and I'm immediately intrigued.

When the doors open, I see a helicopter waiting for us. I almost squeal, but I suppress the urge. I've been in a helicopter before, but I've always found it exhilarating.

"Care for a helicopter ride?"

"Hell yes," I screech.

We climb in the helicopter and Christian gives me a pair of headphones to cancel out the white noise. He straps me into one of the seats, and my mind goes to the gutter when I think of all the kinky ways Christian could strap me to other things.

That's when I realize there are only two of us in here. Where's the pilot? Please, God, don't tell me Christian can fly this thing.

I shoot him a look of worry as he fiddles with the control panel.

"What?" he laughs.

"You… You're not going to fly this thing… Are you?" I stutter.

"I am. Why? Is that a problem for you?"

"Well, it's just… I would prefer not to die."

He snorts, "Don't worry. I've been flying for years now." That sure puts my mind at ease. "I'd never risk your safety, Anastasia," he says in a husky voice, "Do you trust me?"

I simply nod my head, and he flashes me his megawatt smile.

He says into the headset, "This is Charlie Tango ready for takeoff. Do you copy?"

"Copy that, Charlie Tango. You're all good to go."

I giggle with excitement as the helicopter ascends into Seattle's skyline.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Another update for you guys! This chapter practically wrote itself, and I'm so happy to share it with you guys. If you haven't already, please leave me a review. I love hearing all your thoughts!

And as for some of the reviewers asking for longer chapters, I specifically said I was going to keep chapters in this story shorter so that I could update more often. My other story, Young in Love has much longer chapters, but I'm not able to update it very frequently. So I hope you can understand why I made these chapters a lot shorter. I don't want to leave you hanging for a week!

On a side note, I have a Pinterest board for this story now!

My username is amandaamendes01, so please go check it out. I'm going to post anything and everything related to this story on the page. For example, you'll find photos of Christian's sick car, and you'll be able to see where I got the inspiration for Christian's mansion.

I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

**ANA**

"Wow, Seattle is so beautiful at night," I muse.

"Sometimes it's just nice to escape everything and come up here."

"It must be peaceful," I comment, looking into his eyes.

He flashes me a warm smile in agreement with me. "It is," he states.

"Do you fly often?" I ask.

"Whenever I can," he answers, "I don't like other people flying my baby."

"Possessive much?" I giggle.

"Very," he retorts.

"So do you have any other secret skills I should know about?"

He laughs, "I would hardly call it a secret."

"You didn't answer my question, Grey."

"I know how to operate a boat. Sailing is one of my favorite things to do to just escape. I'm quite proficient in soaring as well. You should come with me sometime. It's quite extraordinary."

Another date? I find myself actually wanting that time with him to be a reality. He's so easy to talk to.

"Well, Mr. Grey… Is there anything you can't do?"

"I can't cook," he states bluntly.

"So I'm assuming you're not cooking dinner for us tonight?"

"God, no. I don't want to give you food poisoning."

* * *

**CHRISTIAN**

I take the long way to the house. I want Ana to enjoy the beauty of the cityscape, the stars, and the bright lights at night.

"Look," I say pointing to the tower on the right, "That's the Space Needle."

"It looks so small from up here."

"We are 25,000 feet up," I smirk.

"Thanks for being a smart ass," she quips.

This woman captivates me like no other. I don't understand how someone as confident and strong as her could be a submissive. She doesn't fit the typical profile. She doesn't look like she has one submissive bone in her body. But after Elena, I don't trust my judgment as much. She could just be putting up a good front. A mask she wears for everyone else to see, when in reality, she craves for someone to control her.

I have so many questions for her. Like how did she get into the BDSM scene? I sure as hell don't think it was as fucked up as my initiation into the lifestyle. Is she still part of the BDSM scene? There are so many intimate questions I want to ask her, but for now, I'm content with our playful banter and small talk. I've never felt so alive in my life.

* * *

**ANA**

Christian lands the helicopter in a large field of grass. We're definitely not in Seattle anymore, so where the hell are we?

In the distance, I can see a large estate. But my expectations for what I expected Christian's house to look like are totally wrong.

Christian helps me off the helicopter, and I can get a better look at the house.

I expected a postmodernist art museum of a home. A bachelor pad of sorts. However, the house is the complete opposite of my vision. Don't get me wrong, it has a modern vibe, but it looks like a family could live here. I can picture small children running around in this very field after school. And I can see a doting mother watching her children play as she waits for her husband to come home from work. It's a beautiful fantasy, really.

"This… This is your house?" I mumble, still in awe.

"Yeah, not what you expected, is it?" He completely read my mind.

"Not at all," I agree. "Where are we?"

"Bellevue," he replies, "It's only a thirty-minute drive to Seattle, so it's close to work. But it's just far enough that I can…"

"Escape…" I finish his sentence.

"Yeah."

"You seem to do a lot of escaping."

"It's nice to get away from the craziness of it all. The business… Everything. It's just so hard."

"I know what you mean. It seems like everyone wants something from you. Money, a job, fame, recognition. It's ironic, really. You have all this money. You can buy anything you desire, but somehow you feel…"

"Alone…" This time he finishes my sentence. I swear Christian and I are on the same wavelength or something. We just get each other.

We continue to walk in comfortable silence to the house. There is a beautiful Japanese inspired garden with a cascading waterfall leading to the entrance of a home. I feel like I just took a fifteen-hour flight to somewhere remote and tropical. The front door doesn't even look like a door at all. It's an all-glass pivot door that Christian unlocks with his fingerprint. When we walk in, I'm immediately greeted with the smell of fresh herbs. Someone must be whipping up something delicious in the kitchen.

"Welcome to my home," Christian smiles.

The front door opens right up to the spacious living room. The house boasts an open floor plan with a modern but cozy feel. And then right across from of me through the immaculate glass doors, I see the gorgeous view of the Sound.

Christian sees my eyes twinkle at the view and asks, "You want to go outside?"

I simply nod my head.

I'm surprised when the sliding glass doors open via Christian's smartphone. The outdoor patio stretches the whole length of the first floor, and I'm stunned by the view.

"I can't believe you get to live here," I gush, "I would kill for this view."

"I can have dinner set up in here if you'd prefer."

"Yes, please," I say a little too eagerly. It's a perfect, warm and breezy night. Eating outside with this view will be perfect.

"Would you like a tour first?"

"I'd love one."

* * *

The first room he shows me is the one we entered through. The living room is massive and opens up to the most amazing and pristine kitchen. The large couch in the room directly faces the immaculate view of the Sound and would be a wonderful place to get lost in some new designs.

I immediately notice that Christian has family photos scattered throughout: on the bookshelves, on the side tables, and even on the walls. I feel the sting in my heart longing for a family I'll never get to have.

"I love all these pictures of your family. It really adds a nice personal touch." And if I'm being honest, I wouldn't have pegged someone like Christian Grey to have family photos in his house with the way the media portrays him.

"My mom put them there," he states.

"Of course she did."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not. I didn't think they were your addition to the decor."

"Why is that?"

My eye catches one particular photo of what looks like a teenage Christian Grey. It's a photo of him and his whole family in front of the Eiffel Tower. I used to dream of going there as a little girl. When I was in foster care, the only thing that I could really call mine was an old, tattered copy of Madeline. The book told stories of the daily adventures of a seven-year-old girl who attended boarding school in Paris. On the front cover of the book, was a cartoon drawing of the Eiffel Tower that captivated me. For as long as I can remember, I told myself that I would make it to Paris and that I would see the Eiffel Tower. And it came true.

When my company was just getting off the ground, my first big break came during Paris's fashion week. I got the chance to preview some of my designs at a small showing. So, I dropped everything and took the first flight to Paris for five minutes of runway time with all my designs in one suitcase. The runway show was a complete hit. All of a sudden, I had investors flying at me from left and right wanting a piece of the next big thing in fashion. So to reward myself, I did what any girl who's ever had a childhood dream would have done. I went to the Eiffel Tower the next day. I reveled in its beauty, history, and grandeur. But I had no one to share it with. Seeing this heartwarming photo of Christian surrounded by people who loved him brought me back to that moment, highlighting the stark contrast of being alone and being surrounded by those who love you the most.

"Anastasia," Christian's voice brings me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry," I apologize, "I zoned out there for a moment. What did you say?"

He picks up the picture frame I'm staring at. "Why would you think that I didn't put these photos here?"

I bite my lip nervously, not wanting to offend him, "It's just… The media portrays you as a billionaire bachelor. Coldhearted, aloof, detached. I just never pegged you for a family type of guy… Until I met you."

"They weren't wrong. There was a period of time where I didn't speak to my family. I shut them out for two years while I was building my business."

"I'm sure they understood. Success doesn't come easy."

"They did," he shrugs, "But I knew everytime I turned down an invitation to Sunday dinner, family get-togethers… Hell I didn't even show up to birthdays or holidays. I knew they were disappointed in me. But they never stopped inviting me to family functions. They never stopped caring for me."

"And your relationship with them now?"

"The strongest it's ever been," he says proudly.

"I'm glad." I really am.


	8. Chapter 8

**ANA**

"Ready to see the kitchen?" Christian asks me. I nod eagerly.

The living room leads right into the kitchen, and I'm surprised when I don't see anyone cooking up a storm. There is still the lingering smell of something savory, but it's not coming from here. Christian must have a chef's kitchen elsewhere.

The main kitchen is immaculate – any home cook's dream. I always loved to cook. Back when I was in foster care, I used to watch my foster mom cook. She used to let me help her put ingredients in a pot and birthdays, she used to let me help with baking the cake. I never have time to cook now. The kitchen in my penthouse is practically unused by me.

"This is the main kitchen," Christian states.

"Wow, this is quite excessive for someone who can't cook," I laugh.

He just shrugs. "I had it built… Well, I had it built for my family. I thought it could make up for some of the Sunday dinner's I've missed. And I've missed a lot of them."

I run my hand along the cold marble countertop. "Did you just recently build this house?" I ask.

"I bought it about eight months ago. The full renovations were completed only a few weeks ago. My brother headed the project for me."

That's right. His brother's Elliot Grey. If I'm remembering correctly from the papers, he owns a construction company.

"He did an amazing job," I gush, "But I have to ask. Where is that delightful smell coming from? I'm getting hungry."

He smiles, "There's a full chef's kitchen in the back for the caterers. I'm sure the chef won't mind if we go back there? Do you want to see?"

"Yes," I say, hearing my stomach grumble.

"Christ, I'm going to have to feed you soon," he chuckles, leading me down the vast hallway.

* * *

I didn't think I could be as floored as I am right now. Gordon fucking Ramsay is standing right in front of me, smiling, holding out a tray of food for me to sample. If I wasn't with _the _Christian Grey, I would think that I'm hallucinating.

"This is some amuse-bouche to start you guys off. Starting on your left we have hamachi tartare with pomegranate. Then there's a vol-au-vent with caramelized onion, mushrooms, and gruyere. Lastly, we have a butter-poached lobster with lemongrass and curry." He smiles at me like this is totally normal to have a world-renowned chef personally serving you.

"Thanks, chef," Christian smiles, "When will dinner be ready?"

"Twenty minutes, Mr. Grey."

"Perfect. We're going to eat this out on the terrace. Thanks again," Christian replies.

Christian my hand and leads me outside to the terrace and garden.

"I can't believe you," I comment.

"What?" he tries to feign innocence.

"You really flew Gordon Ramsay all the way here just to cook us dinner?"

"Yes," he says flatly.

"Wow, you really don't do anything halfway, do you?"

He grins wickedly, "Never."

He leads me to the dinner table that is set up overlooking the Sound. The table is set beautifully with a white tablecloth, candles, only the finest china, and a small bouquet of flowers. He pulls out my chair for me and sets the plate of food down on the table.

We both sit in comfortable silence, gazing into each other's eyes as we dig into the delicious food. It shouldn't be this comfortable to sit in complete silence, but it is. There's this familiarity with him. I don't have to try to put up any walls to protect myself. I don't feel like I need to. I can be… Well, me.

"Were you born in Seattle?" I ask, breaking the silence, finding myself curious about his early life.

"No," he pauses before continuing, "I was actually born in Detroit. What about you Miss Steele? Are you a Seattle native?"

"I was born in Montesano," I smile. My early childhood isn't something I talk about. Ever. To anyone. I was 10 when I moved to Seattle to live with a new foster family.

Christian chuckles. "What?" I laugh.

"I feel like I already know so much about you. It's just, these silly questions…"

"You want to jump right in? Haven't you heard? You need to learn how to walk before you can run." That saying comes right from the good doctor himself, Flynn.

"I've been told that before," Christian replies.

"But I kind of like running…" I rebuke, "Let's lay it all out on the table, yeah?"

He nods in agreement. Neither of us knows where to start.

"So…" I say awkwardly.

"BDSM," Christian states bluntly. I can't help but laugh at his forwardness.

"BDSM…" I echo, "I recall you telling me that you weren't in the lifestyle anymore."

"That's true to an extent," he says secretively, "Do you still participate in the lifestyle?"

"Yes," I answer truthfully. "Christian, I want to be honest with you. I love being a submissive. As backward as it sounds, it makes me feel…"

"In control," he finishes my sentence.

"Yeah, in control," I agree.

"I know the feeling of needing control," he comments, "It's a drug for people like us."

"What did you mean when you said you weren't part of the lifestyle anymore?"

He takes a deep breath before recounting, "Until a few months ago, I used to have a friend. Well, ex-friend now. But she used to supply me with submissives. I would contract them for a period of three months and then we would reevaluate. They could leave at any time, but I could also terminate the contract at any time for any reason. You see, I was and I guess I still am fucked up. If a sub claimed they had any sort of feelings towards me, I would terminate the contract immediately. I didn't want any feelings to get involved. I… I was afraid of accepting anyone's love. Even love from my family."

"What changed?"

His voice is shaky. I grab his hand for support. This story must not be easy for him to tell. "That woman… That ex-friend. She introduced me to the lifestyle when I was 15."

I gulp. That's the same age Jack seduced me. But he didn't do anything wrong. I was asking for it. I craved it.

Instead of interrupting, I let him continue, "I used to sub for her, but then when I got older, I wanted to become a dominant. She trained me, and she subbed for me. She was always bossing me around, but I thought it was just because she cared about me. But then she started to get manipulative. She would try to worm her way into my business and everything I worked hard for. I realized she was controlling me by supplying me with submissives. I was fucking girls she approved. It was like I was still under her control. That's when it all went downhill. I hadn't asked her for a submissive in a few months, and she was getting desperate for control over me. She crashed a family dinner at my parents' house, and my mom overheard our conversation. And it wasn't pretty. I had never seen my mom that mad before. My family… they helped me realize that I was taken advantage of. I was only 15 years old. I was too young to give consent. She was an adult, and she preyed on someone who was impressionable and was easy to manipulate."

My heart breaks for Christian. But it also breaks for myself. There's no way Jack is doing the same thing to me as this woman did to Christian. Jack is a friend. He isn't still trying to control me. Is he? No, no, no. There's no way. Jack has been someone I could trust for years now. I can't think of him as some pedophile.

"I'm so sorry Christian," I reply, still holding his hand.

"Don't be sorry. In so many ways, it's shaped who I am today. And in some sick, twisted way, I'm grateful for her. It brought me to you."

"Christian…" I stutter.

"I know you said you don't do relationships. And Lord knows I've never been in one either. But there's something that draws me to you on a deeper level, Anastasia."

"Christian, I…"

Before I can reply, a waiter interrupts with our first course.


	9. Update

Thank you to all my readers for taking the time to review and send me private messages about both of my fics. I haven't been active on this site for a while now, and it's been a year since I've updated. However, after some reflection, I've realized that I've been itching to get back to these stories. So, both Young in Love and Darker than Grey will be updated in the near future, and I will also be going back to edit past chapters. I hope you're all excited as I am!

Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!

xoxo


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I'm so excited for you guys to read this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**CHRISTIAN**

I did it. I laid all my cards out on the table. Anastasia knows. Well, not everything. But she does know all the shit about Elena, even if it's only the basics.

But then that god damned waiter had to interrupt us. I can't lie, though. The food is delicious.

The first course is lobster linguine, followed by beef wellington as the main course, and sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Absolutely exquisite.

Anastasia seemed to enjoy herself too. She seemed so excited to be eating food cooked by some famous chef. I didn't even know who he was. I had Taylor hire him. And it cost me a pretty penny to get that British fuck to be here too. Fucking $2 million! Whatever, that's play money anyways. And if it makes Ana this happy, I'd gladly pay him to cook us dinner every day of the week.

The conversation became lighter over dinner. Ana asked me about my hobbies, and I told her all about my various outdoor and physical pursuits: boating, gliding, flying. She seemed so enthralled by my stories. When I asked about her family, she clammed up and quickly changed the subject. I soon realized that was a topic she was uncomfortable with, so I knew something traumatic must have happened to her. It just makes me want to get to know her better. I want to know everything about her, and I hope that she'll be able to tell me one day.

After the last of our plates are taken away, I ask Ana a very forward question. "Anastasia, I'm not one to beat around the bush. I like you. I really like you. Hell, every single one of my thoughts is consumed by you."

She looks stunned but I continue anyway, "I want to try with you."

"Christian… I don't… I can't date."

"I used to say that."

"Christian, I'm not like you. I need…"

"Trust me," I interrupt, "If you still want the kink and the bondage and the control. I can give that to you. I never said I gave up the BDSM. All I gave up was the contracts."

"So what are you offering me?" she asks.

"I want a relationship."

"Christian…"

"Anastasia… I know you're reluctant. And I don't want to force you into anything. But there are plenty of couples who participate in the lifestyle. It's not all about contracts and hard limits."

"That's all I've ever known…" she mumbles, "I've never been in a real relationship, Christian. I'm used to being treated harshly and then thrown aside once our contract is up. I… I… don't know how to be in a real relationship, Christian. I'm flying blind here. And I don't like that feeling."

"I'm new to all of this, too," I remind her, "But sometimes… Isn't the risk worth the reward? I know you feel something for me." I grab her hand. "This. This electricity between us. You can't deny it, can you?"

She looks up at me with those big doe eyes. "All I'm asking is that you try," I say, "That's all we can do. Try."

Still no response from her. She just continues to stare at me.

Oh, what the fuck! Before I can even think, we're both out of our seats. I gently push her against the railing and do the only thing that feels right. I kiss her like my life depends on it.

* * *

**ANA**

This is wrong. I shouldn't be doing this. Jack is not going to be happy. But can I deny myself this any longer? The answer is obviously no. I've wanted Christian since our first time. I've wanted Christian all night, but I've just been too god damn afraid to admit it.

And now here I am. Making out with Christian Grey, moaning like a whore. His lips are so soft and sweet. I'm not used to this. Any time my previous doms would kiss me, it would be harsh. But this is a whole different world. Although I can sense from our body language and positions that Christian is a true dom, he's not asserting his dominance through force. It's like he's controlling my mind and my soul.

"Fuck, Christian," I moan when he breaks our kiss and attaches his lips to my neck.

"God, Anastasia," he grunts, "I can't get enough of you."

He pulls my hair back with just the right amount of pain, and I crave more. I want more.

His hands move to the zipper on the back of my dress, and I make no moves to stop him. I encourage him by continuing to moan as he kisses me.

I hear the delicate lace of my dress being torn apart, but that's none of my concern right now. The dress can be replaced, but how I feel in this moment can't.

In all my sexual encounters, I'd never felt more alive than I do now. It's just me and him, no dungeons, no shackles, no safewords…

"Take me to bed," I whisper, feeling a wave of confidence rush over me.

I had never been so forward and assertive during sex before, but something about it just felt so right to me.

He temporarily backs away from me and stares at my face, looking for further confirmation.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

I nod, "I'm sure."

Immediately, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to his bedroom.

* * *

**CHRISTIAN**

What the hell just happened? First, we're arguing about going on dates. Then, I'm kissing her. And next thing you know, she asks me to take her to bed.

This is certainly not what I pictured happening tonight, but I want it more than anything.

I lay her down on my large bed and the silk sheets glowing in the moonlight make her look like an angel. I see her bite her lip, and I know she's nervous.

I undo my tie, take off my jacket, and throw the offensive clothing somewhere on the floor. After quickly removing my shoes, I'm on top of her again, kissing her and making her moan.

I lift up her dress to feel her soft thighs and she shudders at every single touch.

"Please, Christian," she begs.

"Tell me what you want Anastasia," I command, wanting to know what she really needs in this moment.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"What do you want, Anastasia? A dominant or a lover?"

"Lover," she whispers, looking straight into my eyes, an answer that surprises the both of us.

I've never made love before. I've only known rough and hard. And I'm sure that's all Ana's ever known too. This experience would be something new for us, a new first of sorts.

"Then, love it is," I reply.

* * *

**ANA**

I wake up in the most immaculate bedroom I've ever seen. Right in front of me, there's a balcony with the same stunning view of the Sound I saw last night. The sheets feel softer and warmer than anything I've ever been wrapped up in before. To my left, there's a large glass fireplace with rows of pictures filling the mantle. To my right, I can see the massive walk-in closet, impeccably organized. The spot in the bed next to me is still warm, so I know Christian must have just woken up too.

My thoughts go back to last night. I don't know what the hell happened to me. I was never interested in soft and sweet sex with anyone. All I thought about were contracts and dominants and pain. But something about last night… The way he kissed me, the way he touched me, the way he held me in his arms. It was so different than anything else I had ever experienced, and it was something I never thought I would get to experience.

People like me don't deserve to be loved like that, but I'm selfish enough to never want to let that feeling go.

But the devil in the back of my mind tells me to run as far away as possible. Again, I can hear Jack's voice telling me love is for fools. I've taken that sentiment with me my whole life, shutting anyone out who dares get close to me.

But now… I'm questioning it because my heart is telling me otherwise. My heart is telling me to stay, to be happy, even though in the back of my mind, I know it can't last.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Christian quietly opens the door and smiles, seeing that I'm fully awake.

I smile at the sight of him in grey sweatpants and a plain white tee. He looks so young like this, you would never know that this was arguably the most powerful and wealthy man in the world.

"Good morning, Ana," he smiles, setting a tray of coffee and tea on the nightstand next to the bed. "I didn't know if you liked coffee or tea, so I made both."

"You made it?" I giggle, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Okay," he relents, "My housekeeper made it, but I brought it up here for you. So technically, I made it."

"Technically, you were the delivery man," I retort.

He laughs and sits down on the bed next to me. "So what will it be Miss Steele?"

"Tea, please," I answer.

After taking a few sips, I notice his eyes haven't stopped staring at me.

"What is it?"

"I just want to talk about last night," he responds, the mood changing from lighthearted and fun to intense in a split second.

"What about last night?" I ask, feeling myself get defensive.

"Ana, I want to be honest with you. That was hands down the best night of my life. And I hope it was the same for you too."

"It was," I say, "But…"

He cuts me off, "But what?"

"But I don't do relationships, Christian. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I need a dominant, not a lover!"

"You weren't saying that last night! And hell, I am more than capable of being your dom. I can be your dom and lover for fuck's sake."

We're practically screaming at each other now. I can see him visibly tensing up, and I don't know how to respond.

"Christian, please. You don't understand," is all that I can come up with.

"Trust me, I know that I understand. I used to feel the same way too. You feel unworthy, right? Unworthy of being in a loving relationship because you were abandoned as a child. I know that feeling all too well."

I'm stunned at his candor. He hit the nail right on the head. That's exactly how I feel.

"Tell me I'm right," he presses.

I take a big gulp and cautiously respond, "Yes, but…"

Again, he cuts me off, "No buts this time, Ana, please. It's not true, you're not unworthy. It took me a while to accept that, and it might take you a while too. But all I'm asking for is a chance to explore whatever this is between us. Let me show you that you're not unworthy. Please, don't make me beg any more."

He gently caresses my face and lifts my chin up to meet his gaze.

"Please, Anastasia," he pleads once more.

Jack's advice is screaming in my mind again. Love is for fools. Love is for fools. Love is for fools.

But for once, I block that ridiculous mantra out of my mind and follow my heart.

"Yes."


	11. Chapter 10

**CHRISTIAN**

"Yes," she says.

I'm so happy, I can barely contain my grin.

"I can't promise you anything," she adds, "But I'm going to try, okay?"

I place her cup of tea back on the nightstand and pull her into a tight embrace.

"That's all I ask," I whisper tenderly into her ear.

Line break

We're in the kitchen now. Ana insists on making breakfast for us. Apparently, she never has time to cook anymore with her busy schedule, and misses it.

So, I send Gail home and let Ana have free range over the kitchen. I don't even know what's in the fridge, but Ana pulls out a basket of fresh blueberries.

"How does blueberry pancakes sound?" she asks.

"Perfect," I reply.

I take a seat at the breakfast bar and just watch her cook. She seems to be in her element, happy and free. Not to mention, she's only wearing her panties and one of my dress shirts. She looks absolutely fuckable right not, and I can't take my eyes off of her.

"Are you sure you don't want to help me, Grey?" she giggles, already knowing the answer.

I just answer with a laugh and continue to watch her as she mixes some ingredients in a large bowl.

"Who taught you how to cook?" I ask.

She gazes down for a moment before answering, "I actually taught myself. When I was younger, I used to watch, um… my foster mom cook, but when I got moved to another home, I saw a lot of cooking shows on TV. I guess that's how I learned."

I give her a sympathetic smile. I know what it's like to grow up in foster care, and it's not a great environment for a young, impressionable kid.

Before I can attempt to lighten the mood, I hear the front door opening and my mother's voice. Shit! She shouldn't be here right now.

"Christian!" her voice rings out from the foyer through the entire first floor.

Ana looks at me in horror.

"Christian, look what I'm wearing," she whispers.

"Go upstairs and change," I whisper back, "I'll deal with her."

Ana rushes up the stairs to put on something more suitable to meet my mother in before Grace is able to catch us red-handed in the kitchen.

When she finally sees me, she has a big smile plastered on her face, like she expected to find me like this.

"Good morning, mother," I greet her, "What brings you here?"

She puts her purse down on the counter and ignoring my question, she replies, "Where's Gail? Something smells delicious in here."

"I gave Gale the day off."

She looks at me skeptically. "So you're trying to cook now?"

"No, um, actually," I answer nervously.

Just a moment later, I hear footsteps coming down the staircase. It's Ana. She put back on the dress she was wearing last night and expertly styled her hair to conceal the huge tear in the back.

Grace looks pleasantly surprised at the sight.

"Grace," Ana greets cheerfully, "It's so nice to see you again."

"You as well, Ana," she replies.

"We were just having a business meeting, mother," I try to play off.

She doesn't buy it. "Oh, it's a Saturday, Christian. And I'm not that stupid. I can clearly see what's going on here." She winks and us and continues, "But just so you know, I totally approve. And I just had to see it with my own eyes."

"So now that you've seen it, it's time to go isn't it?" I retort.

Grace just laughs my response off.

"I'm actually making breakfast. Blueberry pancakes," Ana replies, "You should stay."

Grace eyes me. "I think I will."

* * *

After Grace leaves, I can finally calm down a little bit. I never thought I'd see the day when my mother caught me red-handed with a woman in my house.

"I love your mother," Ana muses, "You're so lucky to have her in your life."

I take some time to ponder what she just said to me, and she's right. Now knowing that Ana was in foster care, I realize how lucky I was to have gotten out of the system so young. Grace saved me… Maybe I can have that same effect on Ana.

* * *

**ANA**

As much as I wanted to stay cooped up in Christian's mansion all weekend, work doesn't allow me to take that break.

Sawyer eventually picks me up, and we're now headed back to Seattle. On the drive back, I have time to think about what transpired with Christian over the last few hours.

Their time together seemed like a dream. A dream I fell like I don't deserve. I'm craving a dom in my life, but I have to admit that making love with Christian was a whole new experience she didn't want to let go of. When he made love to her she felt sexy, she felt beautiful, she felt more…

But no matter how happy I feel, I still can't get Jack's voice out of my mind, so I decide to give him a call.

He answers on the first ring.

"Anastasia," he greets.

"Hey Jack," I respond.

"Is this about your new Dominant? I can have an audition set up for tonight."

"No, no, no," I instantly reply, "This isn't about that. I'm much too busy for a new Dom right now. I'm calling for some advice."

"What is it?"

"Well, you know Christian Grey."

"Yes," he answers, "You met him at his charity gala, correct?"

"Yes, and he asked me out on a date. I accepted."

"What?" he sounds angry, "A date? Anastasia, we've been over this. People like us don't date."

"I know, I know, but…"

He cuts me off, "When's the date?"

"It already happened."

"And?"

"It was good. Really good actually. I've agreed to try dating."

"Anastasia, please listen to me. You need a Dom in your life. You need to be controlled, or else you might lose control."

"Why can't I have both?" I argue.

"Because you simply can't. It doesn't work for people like us. We're both fucked up beyond belief. No one will ever learn to accept that."

"What if he can?" I continue to argue. I want to tell Jack about Christian's history with the BDSM scene but ultimately decide against it. I don't want to break Christian's trust like that.

"Don't be so delusional. A man like Christian Grey will throw you aside the second things get tough. He's the richest man in the world. He has the most beautiful women from all over the world vying to get close to him. Besides, it's not like you need the money anyway. I never pegged you for a gold digger."

I'm in shock he said that about me. I want to end the call there but I respond calmly, "It's not about the money. I enjoy his company."

Jack scoffs. "When he breaks your heart, don't come crying back to me."

He hangs up the call, and I'm left stunned. Jack was always my closest confidante, and I never imagined he'd react so badly to something like this. He has me questioning my whole relationship with Christian.

What am I going to do now?


End file.
